The Duke's Shotgun Wedding (Entangled Scandalous) (5 page)

Her journals also brought home another inescapable fact. That he needed an heir. His father had not been lying in the letters he left for him. When he wrote about Anthony not being his son, Sebastian had thought it bitter ranting. However, her diaries revealed Anthony and Constance to be the children of her lover. His father had proof of this as he had not been in her bed for years, and he also had one of her journal as irrevocable evidence. His father hated his wife’s perfidy so much that he had promised to use the journal to renounce Anthony and Constance, if Sebastian did not marry and obtain an heir for himself.

Sebastian had told Anthony, and let him read the damning letter his father left him. The pain that had flared in his brother’s eyes had punched Sebastian deep. He had seen right through the laughter and quip that Anthony now understood why their father had always been so cold with him.

Sebastian had promised to fight the provisions their father had implemented with the lawyer. But Anthony had refused, fearing how scandal would devastate their sister and mother. And it was possible that even now Anthony’s nemesis was hinting of his illegitimacy, and the rumors were being whispered, already tainting Constance, diminishing her chances of marrying well. Sebastian had seen the profound relief in his brother at being freed of the unwanted responsibility of their father’s titles. So he knew he had no choice in the matter.

He could not bear the idea of his titles and lands passing to strangers, or worse, reverting to the crown. The estates, the tenants, the responsibilities of nobility that he had learned at his father’s knee, the things that had bound them together in respect and a common purpose from the day he was born, were his to shoulder, and his alone.

Except—

Marriage had always left a sour taste in his mouth, and until the fateful day he had learned otherwise, he had always believed women served but one purpose.

But then, at thirty, he found himself suddenly resolved to the idea of a wife. He had duly composed a list of eligible females. The chore had left the most God-awful taste in his mouth. And just as he’d been about to resign himself to the worst fate imaginable, something miraculous had happened.

Jocelyn had crashed into his life pointing a gun right at his jaded heart.

Disbelief and fascination had held him immobile in his chair as she had pointed the laughable weapon at him. He could have easily relieved her of it anytime he wished, but he had been too riveted by the drama unfolding before his eyes.

He’d known in an instant he had to possess her.

And so, in the space of one brief meeting, he found himself a married man, with his tempting duchess awaiting him in their chambers. A wife who would brighten his life, and share his burdens. He knew it was all right there for him to reach out and take.

But he also knew he could never relent and trust his wife completely.

Chapter Five

Jocelyn’s slender, graceful back was turned to Sebastian, and he could see the fine tremors that sifted along her frame at his entrance.

He closed the door with a soft
snick,
but she did not turn to face him from where she stood in front of the windows gazing into the bright starlit night.

He had thought she might be hiding under the covers, or at least pretending to be asleep. A pleased smile curved his lips as he observed her. He should have known she would confront things head on, despite her fears. Hadn’t she done that very thing this morning?

He did not have to wait long for the familiar rush of desire that hardened his cock. He paused in removing his dinner jacket, startled by how visceral the need to hold her was. She still did not stir. She had no clue that he was removing every stitch of his clothes. Or perhaps she did. With every rustle and noise he made undressing, her frame tensed and shook with even more tremors. Her hands, held at her sides, clasped and unclasped, moved to form a tight ball at her front.

Suddenly she spun around to face him, her glorious mane of hair that had been loosely pinned tumbling to her back and shoulders. He met her eyes and a shock of surprise pulsed through him.

His intrepid duchess was not trembling from nervousness or anxiety, after all. The storm clouds that had gathered in her eyes, threatening to break any second, were tempestuous ones. He expected to see a flash of lightening and hear the crash of thunder any moment now.

His beautiful duchess was enraged.

He smiled with satisfaction, and his cock swelled in anticipation.

This…should prove interesting.

…

Jocelyn’s rage was so intense she felt like a bowstring drawn to the verge of snapping.

“Do you realize you’ve had me waiting for almost two hours? With no consideration for the uncertainty I may be feeling?”

His head tilted insolently. “Have I?”

Her rage burned brighter at the complete lack of remorse reflected in his wintry blues.

She had been pampered and scented, her hair brushed for what felt like a thousand strokes, and then dressed in the peignoir he had gifted her. It was so sheer her heart still palpitated at the thought. All for his bloody pleasure. And the conceited cad had kept her waiting. Two miserable hours.

“Why, you conceited bas—”

The rest of the words strangled in her throat as he dropped the garment he had been holding loosely in front of him.

In a shocked daze, her eyes tracked its fall to the carpet and scanned the pieces of clothing strewn about haphazardly—his jacket, waistcoat, his pants, boots, and assorted unmentionables.

She gasped and snapped her head up, and her eyes popped as she beheld her husband standing there.

Gloriously naked.

My God
. He was splendid.

She drank in the sight of him, from his slashing brows to his chiseled jaw and sensual lips, down his powerful body. He was tall and sleek with a broad chest, wide, athletic shoulders, and thighs and calves that were hard with muscle. Everything about him was hard, strong, and proud. She had never imagined the male body could be so…beautiful.

Her hands fluttered to her throat as she stared at the part of him that jutted out toward her, so hard and rigid. And huge.

Good heavens
.

She snapped her gaze up and met his eyes. They smoldered with something primitive and predatory that took her breath away.

In two strides he was directly in front of her. Then he reached out, hauled her into his arms. And he took.

His fingers locked into the thick coils of her hair as he angled his head and crushed his lips over hers. He was not slow and seductive as he’d been earlier, instead he devoured. The intensity of his kiss shook her enough that fear once again slammed through her stuttering her heart.

She gasped into his mouth, and his tongue plundered, entwining with hers, lashing her with unexpected pleasure. She moaned as that same unfamiliar fire swept through her body. A strange buzzing whipped through her and she whimpered as he pressed her back into the icy cold wall. Need pulsed between her legs, melting her and creating sensations there that left her weak and stunned.

She felt as if everything was happening too fast. A sharp rip sounded, and her sheer nightgown parted down the middle. She let out a yelp as he hoisted her, and she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist. She felt hot and restless, her skin painfully sensitive. His hands moved over her, caressing her buttocks, then cupping her breasts. He dragged his thumb across her nipple, and the rough caress slammed pleasure directly to her core. His kisses and nips stroked over her lips, her throat, her collar bone, and she arched in a stinging ache of pleasure as his mouth clamped over her nipple and sucked. She gripped his dark head tight as he pulled strongly with his mouth, destroying her with the electric sensations he sent flooding through her entire body.

The hand not pinning her to the wall sent flames of heat streaking up her thighs and between her legs. Shock and excitement vied for equal attention when he parted her curls and ran his fingers though her slit. She was mortifyingly wet there, and she desperately wondered if she should be. Her thoughts derailed as he plunged a long finger inside her while circling his thumb just above, touching a knot of agonizing pleasure.

She splintered.

Her scream was muffled as he captured her lips, kissing her in time to the fingers that continued to torment her between her legs. She felt delirious with the unbearably hot desires twisting within her. She shook with the pleasure, the lightening that struck her, and the fever that invaded her limbs, too wrapped in the overwhelming physical sensations to care about the liquid that wetted his hands and slickness that ran between her thighs.

He plunged a second finger inside, and she cried out at the bite of pain. He did not give her time to adjust to the invasion before he continued thrusting. Sweat slicked her skin and she was dazedly grateful, for it seemed to cool the fire that burned so hotly in her veins. The room spun as he tumbled her down on the bed.

His lips left hers and created a wake of scalding heat as he licked down to her breasts, dipped in her navel, and continued down.

Shocked embarrassment stormed through her as he replaced his wet fingers with his mouth and tongue. She shrieked, her back bowing under the riotous sensations that gripped her. His tongue speared inside her and fiery tingles coursed through her body. She gripped a fistful of his hair and yanked. She was surprised when he came up easily, his muscled framed poised over hers as he stared down at her, his eyes glittering with heat.

She gasped raggedly and stared back at him with her heart jerking and thundering painfully.

She could not stop the tremors that shook her, try as she might.

“Ah, Jocelyn.” The softest of kisses brushed her swollen lips. “I have not lost so much control since I was an untried boy.” His lips gentled even further as he kissed her cheeks, her eyelids, and back to softly fluttering over her lips.

Instead of his hands burning her with pleasure, they now ran languidly over her, gentle and teasing, but with a focused intensity that wrung soft moans and gasps from her. The sharp, desperate edgy feeling eased, replaced by languorous pleasure.

“It surely must be wicked and immoral to feel so good,” she moaned against his lips, her focus blurring at the feel of his skin rubbing sensually against hers.

He chuckled softly. “We haven’t even begun to be wicked and immoral yet, my duchess.”

The edgy uncertainty and fear she had felt earlier fled completely, and a tentative trust formed, allowing her to relax into the pleasure he bestowed upon her body. She trusted him wholly when he eased her over so that she lay on her stomach, and she could only purr deep in her throat as he kissed and nibbled her neck, over her shoulder blades, and down her back, stopping at her buttocks. He nipped sharply. Her hips rolled and arched up, loving the heat of his tongue as it soothed the sting. She purred, squirming under his sensual touch. His chuckle vibrated against her, and his crooning words of encouragement as he licked a sensitive spot behind her knees had almost as strong an effect as the fingers that continued to thrust so steadily inside her.

She shivered, moaning weakly, helplessly craving the pleasure he tormented her with. His powerful hands gripped her hips and spun her to face him. She swallowed at the dark sensuality that marked his features. Without breaking their gazes, he drew her under him, lifting her legs to hook at his hips.

She ran her hands over his arms and chest, reveling in his strength and power. Her hands drifted down his roped abdomen, then hesitated.

His breath fanned over her lips as he exhaled. “Touch me, my duchess. Do not shy away now.”

He gritted his teeth and groaned as she circled his hard length with her fingers. He felt like hot iron.

“
Sebastian
.” Her moan was an entreaty to fill the emptiness that clawed at her.

He growled in answer.

His movements were rough when he parted her thighs and started to push into her. His lips captured hers, claiming her tongue in a teasing foray as he slowly thrust, deeper and deeper. A burning pleasure-pain consumed her, bowing her back, and had her bucking and moaning in his mouth. He held himself taut above her, his body shaking as he waited for her to adjust.

She felt stretched, wonderfully full, and excited by what was happening. An excitement that tunneled into amazed wonder at the sensations that gripped her as he started a powerful lunge and retreat.

The sharp pain had been fleeting, and now the sweetest pleasure she had ever felt spiraled from her center and ignited within her. Her hips instinctively arched, undulating to the rhythm of his powerful thrusts. She could not contain her moans or the strength with which she clutched him as sensual pleasure held her in a vise. She wrapped her legs higher around his waist and was rewarded as he plunged deeper. She screamed as the pleasure roared through her, fierce and sweet, and she exploded in a conflagration of delight. Sebastian’s harsh groan rumbled against her lips as he kissed her, plunging with increased power and speed until the pleasure overtook him, too.

“Bloody hell,” she whispered against his lips long moments later, her frame still trembling from the mind-numbing pleasure.

“I should have known that cursing was part of your repertoire,” he mumbled with a chuckle.

He rolled with her so that she splayed on top of him. She reared up to look at him, searching his face. She followed the scar that ran from his temple and across his cheeks so savagely. Instead of giving him a grisly mien, it hinted at rakish danger. She smiled at her thoughts.

“Not many see my scar and smile, Duchess.” His voice was still husky from their lovemaking, and an answering thrill surged through her.

“I like it.” When his eyes shuttered, she lowered her face so less than an inch separated their lips, and asked, “Disappointed? Did you expect me to scream or cry?”

A warning growl rumbled from his chest. “I have had young ladies faint at the sight of my visage, Duchess.”

“I find you devastatingly handsome, and I simply don’t believe anyone fainted from this little scratch.” She brushed her lips across his scar, trailing soft kisses over the crescent shape. She halted her movements when she realized how still he had become. The hands that had been loosely wrapped around her waist had tightened painfully. But she did not protest. She raised up, observing his expressionless face. “What?”

“Being hidden away from society, you obviously have not had a chance to look upon many handsome faces to judge accurately, Duchess.”

Even though said with a smile playing at his lips, she had a feeling he was not amused. The curve of his mouth held no warmth, and she could glean nothing from his cool gaze.

“I disagree,” she said quietly.

Suddenly she wished for the privacy of her own chambers, unsure how to deal with her husband’s changeable moods. Especially while splayed over him, naked. Heat rushed through her and her discomfort grew.

“You’re blushing, Duchess. I believe I would give you one of my finest studs for your thoughts right now.”

“Indeed?” She raised skeptical brows. “Many would only offer a penny.”

“I did not think a penny would entice you to reveal the unladylike thoughts that have you blushing so becomingly and averting your eyes from mine.”

She smiled hesitantly, heating even more. “In truth, I was thinking of all the wicked and immoral things we just did.”

Laughter burst from him. “Ah, Duchess, you have much to learn. We have done nothing wicked or immoral. Yet,” he added with a sinful smile.

She sucked in a breath. “Show me.” The words came out as more of a moan than the demand she had meant it to be.

His hands had cupped the curve of her backside and one slipped lower, his fingers teasing her wetness. “My pleasure, my incorrigible duchess. My pleasure.”

…

The early fog that rolled in through the windows Sebastian had opened sometime during the night obscured the soft rays of the rising sun.

He shifted in the bed, the unfamiliar feel of a female body curved so trustingly into his side startling him for a moment. He had bedded many women, but never had he slept through the night with one. Not even Marissa, his only mistress, as she had belonged to another.

His gut tightened as he recalled the many ways Jocelyn had surrendered to him, over and over through the night. She made love as she did everything else, with boldness and fire. If he had not breached her maidenhead himself, he probably would have doubted her innocence. After the first wave of loving, her unguarded responses had almost bewitched him. She was a fast pupil, and at one point he had felt as though he was the student and she the teacher as she licked and caressed him with a natural sensuality that had drowned him in sensations he had never felt before.

A derisive smile curved his lips and he grunted softy. A simple memory of her hot mouth over his cock had him forgetting how perfidious women were. He must take care with this woman. She could so easily make him want to let down his guard.